Laudanum
by Sanathia
Summary: Toki begins having strange flashbacks that cause him to have a breakdown. He turns to Pickles, and the drummer must choose between his lover and his best friend. Dethklok slash Pickles/Ofdensen, Toki/Pickles.
1. Nightmares

**_Disclaimer: I don't own Toki Wartooth, Pickles the Drummer, Nathan Explosion, Skwisgaar Skwigelf, or William Murderface. All of them belong to Metalocalypse and thus Brendon Small. I never claimed to own them, so don't sue me. I do, however own Sjurd Trofasthet. He is not part of the show, nor or any of the events in the below story mentioned._**

_**Warning: M/M slash. Pickles/Ofdensen, Toki/Pickles, Toki/Sjurd. Very mild. Also, drug and alcohol references and profanity. Rated T.**_

Sjurd Trofasthet couldn't help it; this Toki Wartooth already understood. He couldn't help that his wavy blonde hair fell in luscious locks on his shoulders, he couldn't help the smirk he always used to show his superiority. He especially couldn't help the fact that his gray eyes held the power of Thor's hammer, that a single glare at anyone could cause them to faint. Toki was well aware of all of this, but he still couldn't help but be fascinated by the younger boy. At thirteen, Sjurd was only a year younger than him, but his maturity surpassed all in the school.

As usual, Toki and Sjurd were hiding from their families under the protection of a large bare tree, snow crunching all around them as they moved. Toki remained focused on his schoolwork, but the blonde continually stared up at him with a gaze that held thunder.

"Toki?" Sjurd asked timidly, seeming the child he was for the first time. Toki glanced up momentarily from his work to respond with inquisition as to what he wanted. "I…we're friends aren't we?"

"Of course," Toki responded. "We always have been. Since we were children."

"Will we always be friends?"

Toki scowled and glared up at the tall boy. "Why wouldn't we be?"

"I don't know." Sjurd paused for another few minutes before adding to the conversation. "Could anything…anything at all change that?"

"I don't…I don't think so," Toki replied, thoroughly distracted. "Maybe when we become adults. Maybe…if we become like our parents." They both winced at the painful memories.

"Then…well, Toki. Does that mean…"

"Mean what?"

"Nothing," Sjurd flinched away. "Nothing at all."

Toki didn't press. Instead, he continued on reading the chapter, doodling little guitars in the margin of his notebook. Everyone had their dirty little secrets, Toki himself did. If Sjurd didn't want to express his emotions or thoughts, he didn't have to. Toki wouldn't push him the way both of their parents did.

[]

Toki woke up in a cold sweat, his throat sore. As he stared down at the sheets beneath him, he noticed that they were drenched in both sweat and vomit. "Shits," Toki murmured to himself. He'd done it again, puked in his sleep. It happened more frequently now, since the dreams about his childhood and Sjurd began occurring.

He stood, feeling the deepest urge to leave the bed behind and be cleaned later in the day. The clock read three. Three in the morning? Toki rubbed the sand from his eyes and made his way towards the living room, hoping that reentering society would cleanse his black soul from the mourning and grief he felt over his dream.

The living room was surprisingly empty. The couches and chair seemed crisp and fresh, as though the spoils of alcohol hadn't yet reached them yet. Perhaps Ofdensen or a klokateer had them cleaned, perhaps the stench of pure acidic liquor had finally driven someone to the edge of buying new furniture. Not like the drunkards would even notice.

As Toki took a seat on the end of the fresh couch, he heard a slight groan coming behind him. Gasping, he jumped off of the couch and peeked over the edge to find a wasted Pickles lying in his underwear on the floor with a bottle of straight whisker in one hand and a joint in the other. Toki frowned and poked Pickles gently in the stomach.

"What? What?" cried Pickles, rolling over gazing up at Toki's long caramel-colored hair. "Wha'dya want, eh, Toki? Yer up early…er late."

"Pickle!" Toki exclaimed. "Ams you hurts? You…lyings on ground and moan like hurts, ja?"

"Ah…nat exactly. Could ya - " Pickles pointed towards a bag of what looked like parsley. He grunted once. "Could ya get dat bag fer me?"

"Sure, Pickle." Toki smiled and reached towards the bag of spices. "I likes parsley in my foods, buts dats cool if you likes it…plains."

"Parsley!" Pickles exclaimed with a laugh. "Ah, nevermind. So wha'dya want?"

"I hads bad dreams," Toki whispered sheepishly. "I comes out here to thinks."

Pickles remained silent, so Toki turned around and turned on the giant TV. After a few minutes of clicking through stations and a rapid rate, the sound of a lighter igniting a flame could be heard, then immediately following was a strange odor that somehow was pleasing. Toki leaned over the back of the couch again and stared down at Pickles' cigarette. It was the source of the mysterious fumes.

"Ya wanna try it?" Pickles offered with a devilish grin. Toki shrugged and accepted, breathing the smoke in deeply. The inhalation made him gag for a moment, but he soon stopped choking and began smiling. He felt utterly at peace. Sjurd quickly left his thoughts.

"Dis ams cool, Pickle," Toki smiled, inhaling once more before handing the joint back to the redheaded drummer. Pickles nodded and took a swig of whiskey.

"Yeah, dat's what livin' is all about." Pickles smiled slowly. "Drinkin', smokin', gettin' high…Don't need nothin' else. Ferget yer worries."

Toki frowned. He _was_ forgetting something vital, something key that had triggered him to leave his pukey bed. It was something important, something he needed to talk to someone about. He continued to fidget as he thought relentlessly about what it could possibly be…

"Ah, Toki?"

"Ja, Pickle?"

"Somethin' botherin' ya?"

"Eh…" Toki continued to think. "Kinds of. Is stupids anyway."

Pickles leaned forward expectantly. "And? Come an, get it aff yer chest."

Toki cocked his head. "Nothings ons my chest, Pickle." Suddenly, the struggle released its persistence; he remembered the dream, Sjurd…yes, Sjurd. That was what bothered him so much. "Buts, uh, I feels kinds of bad abouts something."

"What would dat be?"

"Sjurd Trofasthet." Toki hesitated for a moment. "Kinds of personal, you knows?"

Pickles shifted. "Yeah, I know. Dere's things I wouldn't tell ya, no offence."

"I, well…" He bit his lip. "I wants to tell you, tell someones. Anyones, really. Just, I don'ts know if I'ms ready to say yets."

Pickles paused. "Well, ya know, ya can always talk ta me, dude."

"We…ams friends then?"

"Sure, we're bros."

Toki bit his lip again. "Takk, Pickle. You really ams the bests. I'll talks to you soons, ja?"

"Whenever," Pickles assured him. "Whenever yer ready."

[]

Something was clearly bothering that strange little Norwegian, that Pickles was sure of. There was nothing he could do though, he couldn't push him too far. He wouldn't. He wouldn't be his parents. And besides, he agreed never to care about anyone else in the band's life. It was a solemn vow.

So why did he care so much about what ran through that thick foreign skull of Toki's?

Pickles bit his lip until a tear-shaped drop of blood spilt from the wound like a leaky faucet. Maybe it was the fact that Toki was so much like him that he felt so bonded to him. Little was known about Toki's past except that his parents were clearly abusive, much like his own, and that he was forced to do hard labor for the sake of punishment. That, Pickles wasn't familiar with. He'd ran away at a fairly young age and was able to avoid most of the issues that sprang up in life. One punch from his dad and he was gone. One insult and he was packing his things.

It hurt. It always had. "You belong in a garbage can," his father had said over fifteen years earlier. Most of the time he could ignore the pain, but the lingering effects bothered him until he softened enough to cry. Only Ofdensen was aware of the situation, as he'd walked in on a previous episode, and Pickles liked it that way. If Nathan knew he cried himself asleep, he'd do more than laugh at him; he'd be out of the band for sure. Crying wasn't brutal. It never had been. It's much more brutal to keep it lodged in your soul until it explodes and you become the epitome of hate.

_Nah, _Pickles thought to himself. He wouldn't become the embodiment of violence, no matter how much he fantasized about it. Instead, he would continue to release his pain nightly with his tears and to ease it in the meantime with drugs, alcohol, and good old-fashioned sex.


	2. Poetry

Soft moans and cries floated down the dark corridors as though they were riding on currents of wind down to Ofdensen's office. They were full of longing, regret, and pain. The manager stood, hoping to locate where the sobbing was coming from, and then the weeping disappeared. Suddenly, lyrics filled the air, and even Ofdensen felt paralyzed by the beauty of the song.

"_Did you ever fall in love?  
><em>_Did you ever feel the pain?  
><em>_Thought they were sent from above,  
><em>_Only to find they were a knave…"_

At first, Ofdensen assumed Pickles was singing or referring to an old Snakes'n'Barrels song, but it became apparently obvious that it wasn't. These words were too deep, too meaningful to have ever come from people who were so high all the time. The next verse rang clearly throughout Mordhaus.

"_Did you look me in the eye?  
><em>_Did you feel my beating heart?  
><em>'_Cause it hurt to say goodbye,  
><em>_And you didn't even fall apart!"_

Pickles' accent all but disappeared as he sang his sad, sad song. Ofdensen marched towards the heartbroken drummer and stood behind him for a moment. He took him by the shoulders and squeezed gently.

"Ya heard dat, huh?" Pickles muttered, suddenly interested with his nails. Ofdensen smiled quietly and walked around the couch, sitting down next to the redhead.

"Yes, I did hear that. Pickles, did you write that?"

"Bout, eh, two years ago. Yeah, back when I thought love was real."

Ofdensen arched an eyebrow, gazing deep into Pickles' green eyes. "You don't believe in love now? After all we've been through?"

Pickles looked away shyly. "I don't deserve it, I guess…"

Ofdensen pulled Pickles' face towards him and groaned mildly. "If anyone deserves love, it's you, Pickles." He leaned in towards the drummer and brushed his lips gently with his own. Pickles leaned forward and slung his arms around his manager's neck.

This wasn't the first time they'd share an evening partaking in non-metal activities. Ofdensen and Pickles had shared an unmatched, secret bond for nearly two months. Nathan, Murderface, and Skwisgaar knew nothing about it, although they both agreed that Toki had a sixth sense and was able to detect their growing closeness. Pickles knew that he wasn't _gay _per se, but he felt a magnetic attraction towards Ofdensen and occasionally the other band members. Something about their chiseled features made him grow uncomfortable, yet he was never able to look away. Especially Toki.

"Pickles…" Ofdensen trailed off, pulling away. "Not now." He looked both ways. "Someone could see us."

"Dat's true," Pickles admitting, looking down at his sneakers embarrassedly. "Couldn't we just, ya know, tell dem or somethin'?"

"Absolutely not," Ofdensen explained with a shake of his head. "It could put Dethklok in a stupor and fans in an uproar. We can't do that to millions of people simply for the sake of our…relations."

"Relations?" Pickles furrowed his brow. "What's dat supposed ta mean?"

"Affairs," Ofdensen corrected, then shook his head again. "No, no. That's not right."

"Tryin' ta say what we gat ain't natural? Ain't…love?" Pickles hollered, standing up.

"No. Please calm down, Pickles." Ofdensen tugged at his arm, pulling the drummer back into a sitting position. "It _is _love."

The manager stared off behind Pickles' left with glassy eyes.

"Fuck ya!" shouted Pickles, standing once more. "I ain't puttin' up with yer shit no more, Afdensen! We're…dis is done…" The drummer started down the dim hallway, then turned around when he was halfway to his room and added in a yell, "Have yer relations with someone else!"

[]

Toki frowned, scanning his model airplane for any signs of damage. No, there was none. So where could the last screw go? Where had he messed up?

He could hear distant, muffled sobs from the room next to him, which he deciphered to be Pickles' room. He'd never learned who had what room other than his own, but the tenor sobs seemed to be desperate. Toki couldn't concentrate on where the last screw went, so he figured he had the time to waste to figure out who slept next door.

It was Pickles, alright. The characteristic "Fuck aff" said directly after Toki knocked was distinctly in a Wisconsin dialect. Why was he crying?

"Pickle, is Toki…cans I come ins?"

The door inched open momentarily, so Toki took that as an opportunity to come in. Pickles laid on his bed in his shirt and underwear with his head down. His red dreadlocks stuck to his head with sweat and salty tears.

"What wrongs, Pickle?" Toki asked concernedly, taking a timid seat at the edge of the bed.

"Did ya – look me in da eyes –?" Pickles choked out between sobs. "Did ya feel – my beatin' heart? 'Cause it hurt – ta say goodbye…" Pickles paused, then cried out loudly, "And ya didn't – even fall apart!"

"Oh, Pickle, that's pretty poems!" Toki exclaimed with a bright smile. Pickles turned over and smiled through his rolling oceans of tears.

"Think so, huh? Dere's another verse, if ya wanna hear it."

Toki nodded excitedly. "Oh yeah!"

_"Did you even care about me?  
><em>_You must've seen me broken-hearted…  
><em>_You looked beyond my pleas,  
><em>_You left, and just departed."_

"So sads," Toki murmured with a frown. "You writes this?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Why ams you so sads that you wrotes such pain?"

Pickles frowned. "It was years ago, Toki."

"Then why you said it now…you feels sads now?"

Pickles nodded. "Yeah, I guess I'm sad now." Toki waited, so he continued. "I was stupid. I fell in love again after I already knew love ain't fer me. I did it ta myself."

"Love ams for everyone."

"Not me, Toki. Never fer me. Never works out."

The little Norwegian fell silent. Everything seemed a burden to Pickles, so why did he feel the deepest desire to tell him the strangest thing? "Well, Pickle…I loves you. You's my best friends!"

Pickles nodded. "Mine too, since Afdensen…"

"What about Ofdensens?"

"Nothin'. Don't worry bout it none."

Once more, the pair was silent. At least Pickles had stopped crying. Instead, he lay his head against the pillow and stared up at the ceiling looking like he felt both remorse and regret. His gaze fell to haziness and Toki no longer knew what was going on in the drummer's mind. Perhaps he felt drugged up. Perhaps he felt sad. Maybe he was lonely.

"You said somethin' yesterday, last night. A word, like, eh, surd…surge…"

"Sjurd," Toki answer simply. "Sjurd Trofasthet."

"Yeah, what's dat?"

"_Who,_" Toki correctly with a slow smile. "Sjurd Trofasthet was my friends, longs time ago. Well – " The guitarist frowned momentarily. "I thinks he was my friends. Honestly, I felts nothing abouts him. He makes me numb, which ams what I likeds abouts him. Didn't feel nothings for him, didn't feel nothings about my parents."

"Yer drug," Pickles said after a short pause. "He was yer drug, yer painkiller."

"Mades me numb," Toki repeated nodding. "Thinks it's, eh, laudanums?"

"Yeah, dats a painkiller. Laudanum."

"I spents lots of times with him, just to gets away from my parents ands from feelings at alls…when I felts, when I thinks…it hurt. Hurt a lots. Felt likes getting punched, rights here." Toki pointed at his jaw. "My dads did that lots. So I stays with Sjurd lots."

After another moment of silence, Pickles asked, "Sure ya wanna go an, dude?"

"Ja," Toki said resolutely. "I decides last nights that I trusts you."

"So, what bout Sjurd?"

"One days like usual we sats under tree, doesing our schoolworks. He asks me if we be friends forever, and I lies and say yes." Toki bit his lip. "His forever ends soon."

"Dude, he _died?"_

"Ja, he has hamburger times." Toki faltered for another moment. "I didn'ts thinks about him much afters that…but now I has dreams, no _nightmares_, of him constantsly! Is like…his ghosts come backs to tells me how I uses him…"

"Ya didn't use him," Pickles replied quietly, patting his friend's back. "Ya needed him."

"He hads…sickness. Mades him thin for years. He weres always sick. Buts then he gains it backs, and dies week laters!"

"Dude, it was just his time." Pickles shrugged nonchalantly. "Can't help dat."

"But I coulds've!" Toki shouted angrily. "I shouldn'ts have lies to him! He woulds've lived if I didn'ts!"

"No, no. Toki, yer lookin' at dis all wrong. If he were always thin, den he wasn't healthy. Like you could've helped dat!"

"Buts he gots better," Toki moaned with grief. "He gots better and I kills him."

They both fell silent for the last time, and Pickles spent the remainder of the evening rubbing Toki's back helpfully until they both fell asleep, tears caked layer upon layer on their pale faces.


	3. Trust

Liquor bottle littered the floor like snow across the Scandinavian frontier; this was the first reason Toki immediately knew he wasn't in his own room. He wasn't much for alcohol and only drank it during meals when socially demanded. The room was also much larger than his and filled with posters of naked woman, contrary to his model airplanes and action figures in his own. The other reason he knew he didn't wake up in his own room was that he was fully clothed in a king-sized bed and Pickles lay beside him in sneakers and underwear.

Toki pinched the bridge of his nose and gently pulled the sand from the corner of his eyes. He didn't quite remember why he was in the drummer's room, but it clearly wasn't because of the obvious reason. He shuddered quietly and rose, walking out of the foreign room and into his cozy, familiar territory. He quickly shed his navy blue shirt and boots and lay strewn across his bed.

"Hey dude, I heard ya get up and…" Pickles trailed off, scratching behind his ear. He'd put on clothes, Toki observed, but his eyes widened as the drummer stared down at Toki. "Wow. Dude, yer ripped!"

Toki glanced down at his torso self-consciously. "Ja, maybes."

"No, dude, you are." Pickles reprimanded. "Why is dat?"

"I works hard, okay!" Toki defended swiftly, rolling onto his belly so as to hide the muscular build. In the process, Pickles saw the heavy amounts of scars and scar tissue covering the whole of his back; he held back a gasp.

"What…? What da hell?" The redhead jumped back and shoved his fist in his mouth. "What da hell happened?"

"Nothings!" Toki exclaimed. "These ams…is olds. Don't hurts no more. Honest, Pickle!"

Pickles nodded slowly. "But…what happened? Were ya in a car accident er what?"

Toki shook his head and rolled back over. "Don'ts worry bouts it. Hasn't hurts since… Well I can'ts remembers when it hurts." He shrugged. "Nots a big deals."

The drummer stared at one of the Norwegian's action figures before responding quietly, "Ya can trust me, dude. I thought, ya know, we hit it aff last night. We trusted each ather. I thought we was friends now."

"We ams friend, Pickle. You's my only friends in Dethklok, in the worlds." Toki bit his lip. "I did trusts you yestersday. With tellings you bouts Sjurd."

Pickles took Toki's hand and nodded, his long red dreadlocks swaying gently as though a breeze had arose in the midst of bleak Mordhaus. The rhythm guitarist couldn't look away from the beauty beheld by Pickles, and somehow he felt something towards him that was more than trust. Maybe it was the way his rough hands gently cradled Toki's calloused ones, or perhaps it was the way dim light reflected off of his eyebrow piercings, or it could've even been that the previous dinner he'd eaten hadn't settle well with him. No matter what it was, something that day made Toki almost positive that he loved the Wisconsinite with all his heart, whether it be as a brother or something more.

"Trust me, Toki," Pickles pleaded, pushing his red eyebrows together slightly and giving his famous smirk-grin. He squeezed his hand gently.

"…I does. I does, Pickle." Toki released his hand and turned, letting him see the full extent of the scars. "I don'ts actually remember gettings them, not specifi-sklies." He cocked his head slightly. "Speksifica-klies…Pacifical-sklies…"

"Specifically," Pickles offered with a smile.

"Ja," he said with a nod. "I don'ts know the times it happens, it happeneds oftens. Whips, knife, my mom fingernail…they makes me bleeds lots."

"Dat's…awful."

"I don'ts tell persons that. You thinks they awful for thats, but understands that I deserves it. I screws up lots."

"Dude, dat's called abuse." Pickles shook his head mournfully. "You couldn't have screwed up enough for dat, Toki!"

"Ja, I does." Toki looked away in shame, taking a seat on his small bed. He slid his shirt back on, covering both his muscle tone and scars; the two most shameful things Toki hated about his body. "Please, Pickle, lets me sleeps now. I'ms so…tireds."

Pickles nodded slowly then walked towards out. He hesitated though, at the door, and added right before leaving, "You don't hurt people ya love, Toki. _I'd _never hurt ya."

Toki refrained from crying until the drummer was at a safe distance and couldn't hear.

[]

Ofdensen couldn't focus on his paperwork; he was distraught over his lover's outburst the day before. Not to mention that he'd notice Toki Wartooth sneak into his beloved Pickles' room and not leave. He tightened his fist until the delicate pen in his hand burst; the important documents before him became soaked in a permanent blue hue that could cost Dethklok millions.

He hated his job. There was always so much at stake.

As he sent a klokateer for duplicates on the contracts and documents, he cleaned his desk with a passion. What was so wrong with him that he couldn't bring himself to love, actually _love, _his Pickles? Sure, they'd had loads of fun. Sure, they'd shared so many memories and toasts. But none of that made him feel any more loving towards the one who he cared for.

He couldn't even _blame _Pickles, that's what made him the most angry. Had the places been reversed, he'd be just as upset to find that Pickles had toyed around with him without even loving him. He'd be peeved to know that all his efforts to win his lover's heart had been futile. Pickles had seen the glassy gaze Ofdensen had; he'd seen the way he tried to hide the lie. Ofdensen tried so hard to make the lie the truth, but in the end, it just didn't work.

But…why Toki? Why had he immediately turned to Toki not even a day after their break-up – if that's what you'd call it; they hadn't been _together _he supposed – and seemed to have forgotten all about their times together? What could've been going on in his head? Well, so much for the sleep he'd lost wondering if he'd ruined Pickles' love life. Clearly it was no one but Ofdensen missing out on a love life. He simply didn't have the time to leave Mordhaus and look for a serious relationship.

What about an online dating resource? Nathan had tried it, why couldn't he? He deserved love as much as anyone else.

"Your contracts, my liege," a klokateer murmured humbly, holding a thick stack of papers between his fingers. He held them out, and Ofdensen took them graciously. Luckily, it seemed as if most of the documents were replaceable.

Ofdensen opened another tab on his web browser and searched through a multitude of online dating websites. After almost ten minutes of looking through page after page of choices, he leaned back in his chair. His eyes were exhausted, as were his hands. It was hopeless. It seemed like his only mistress would be the affairs of Dethklok unless fate interceded and demanded otherwise.

Not five minutes later, a drunken Pickles stormed in, howling that he needed to see Dethklok's manager as though Ofdensen were a secretary. The aging man ran his fingers through his brown hair and noted his receding hairline; being Dethklok's pre-school teacher was too stressful, it caused him to bald. He couldn't convince Pickles that he _was_ indeed the band's manager, so he appeased the drunk drummer by turning a circle in his chair and addressing him as "Mr. Pickles" when he turned around again. It seemed to calm the redhead, who began immediately speaking.

"Ya damn dildo," Pickles hollered, pointing a thin finger at Ofdensen. "I loved ya like I never loved no one since grade school!" He dropped to his knees and pulled and dreadlocks. "I can't believe ya! I wanted ta tell ya dat I think ya were great, but we're done…"

Ofdensen held his tear duct's floodgates until Pickles was far gone. He then allowed a single tear to fall and stain the final contract at the bottom of a tall stack of documents. He then vowed to himself – and to Pickles – that he wouldn't give up; he'd fight till the end to earn Pickles' love back, no matter where it took him.


	4. Fear

"Please Toki!" the gaunt boy cried out. "You have to – tell my mother –"

"No, Sjurd, no," Toki answered calmly, stroking his hair gently. "I don't need to get her. You're going to be fine."

"Please!"

"Hush," Toki commanded, hearing footsteps crunching across the frigid plain. "My father is coming!"

Sjurd laid thin and weak on the ice, gasping terribly for each breath. Toki couldn't bring himself to admit to his friend that he _couldn't _get his mother; she was several miles away in a tavern outside of Lillehammer. He continued to call out for her, though, and each cry broke Toki's heart into another piece. Reverend Aslaug Wartooth appeared, rounding around the boys' tree, holding a whip and a shovel.

"Father?" Toki whimpered, crawling away from Sjurd. "Father, please. Take him to town. I think…I think he's dying."

"Stand, son," Aslaug ordered. "You're much too old to grovel at my feet!"

"Yes, sir," Toki mumbled, staring down at his friend's pale figure. "I'll do anything, Father, just please, _please _take him to the doctor!"

"Have you no sense, boy?" Aslaug hollered, smacking his son across the jaw with his palm. "The blizzard is beginning! The boy's mother is long gone, and I cannot risk my own death for one pathetic boy."

"Please." Toki couldn't look his father in the eye, nor could he bring his voice above a whisper.

"No. The boy stays here," Aslaug ordered coldly. He pushed the shovel into Toki's hand and pointed towards their home. "Shovel our way home so that my feet won't freeze."

There was absolutely nothing he could do except rub the goosebumps from his bare arms and begin shoveling. He heard more cries from Sjurd, but he continued to ignore them. "Toki!" the boy called out. Toki turned and began running back to his friend, but Aslaug took his whip and lashed his son three times until he began shoveling once more.

Toki listened to his best friend die until he reached the warmth of his home, and then the yelps were only drowned out by the sound of his father's shouting and his own gnashing of teeth.

[]

"Dude, ya don't look too good," Pickles commented as Toki walked stiffly into the dining room, eyes wide.

"Look like you gotta take a shit," laughed Nathan, chugging a can of beer.

"Bishy lasht night?" asked Murderface, slurring his words more than usual with the added help of alcohol. "Heard shcreamsh…all through Mordhaush!"

"That is true," nodded Nathan, taking control of the situation. "There were a lot…lot of screams. Last night."

"Coulds have beens my lady-friends!" added Skwisgaar, pushing his blonde eyebrows together. "I ams was busy last nights, actuallys. If anyones cares to knows!"

"Nat really, dude," shrugged Pickles, staring up at Toki. Why did he keep staring off like that? Had the nightmares returned again? "Somethin' an yer mind, eh Toki?"

Toki continued to stare glassily down at his pancakes.

"Shtop bein' a crybaby!" confronted Murderface after another minute of silence. "It'sh annoying!"

"Pfft, looks who ams is talkings," scoffed Skwisgaar, rolling his eyes.

"What the fuck ish _that _shupposhed to mean!" shouted Murderface, pulling his knife out of the place where he'd stabbed the table earlier. "I'll fuckin' kill you!"

"Murderface," sighed Nathan, rubbing his temples. "Just…just shut up, man. I've got a hangover like crazy, and your shitty voice isn't…helping."

"Bein' a dildo, dude," criticized Pickles quietly. "All a ya. Toki's gotta prablem."

"I'ms goings now," Toki murmured, standing from the table. He began walking down the dim corridor and soon was consumed by the blackness.

"Gonna go see what's wrang with 'em." Pickles too began walking down into the darkness, having to stop twice to let his eyes adjust.

Pickles found Toki curled in a tight ball in the fetal position just outside of his room, breathing heavily and gasping for air. Pickles rushed towards the broken Norwegian and hovered over him protectively, brushing his hair gently as he calmed him. The more he hushed him, the more Toki began to seize, thrashing about the hall.

"Douchebag!" Pickles cried out. "Klakateer! Klakateer! I need a fuckin' klakateer!"

One of the hundreds of klokateers showed up almost instantly, then two more. All three of them pinned Toki down, but his muscles continued to have spasms beneath the combined men's strength. Pickles bit down on his fist as he watched his best friend begin to calm. He then immediately began begging to see "Pickle" and sobbing about how "he killsed him."

"Shhh, shhh. Toki, it's okay! Ya didn't kill no one!"

"Fucks ja I dids, Pickle. I kills Sjurd!"

"Toki! I told ya, ya didn't kill him, he was sick!" Pickles shooed the klokateers away.

"Nei, nei Pickle! He dies in snows, my dads takes me away and I can'ts finds his mother so I…leaves him. I stops tryings…oh Pickle!" Toki began weeping and fell into Pickles' arms. "If I keeps lookings, he not dies, nei! He lives!" Toki's English became incredibly worse as he continued rambling until he was completely speaking in Norwegian. "Jeg jaevla drept ham! Jeg jaevla drept ham!"

"Toki, calm da fuck down! It's fine!"

"I…kills…best friends I ever hads!" He began crying harder. Pickles shirt was already almost completely soaked.

"Okay, Toki," Pickles sighed, fed up. "Ya killed yer best friend. Ya screwed up. But don't we all? Shit, Toki, I gat mad and ran away from everythin' I had! I fucked up more than ya! But look, ya can't change the past…so ya gatta let it go!"

Toki gazed up at him with eyes filled with amazement. What was the little Norwegian seeing in his own childish way?

"I gotsa…lets it gos…" Toki pondered for a moment, then nodded. "You rights, Pickle! Sjurd ams dead, I can'ts change it…so…"

"So, eh, maybe ferget it ever happened?"

"Oh, nei, Pickle. I can'ts forgets him. He means lots to me."

"Well den don't let it ruin yer life. Don't think bout it."

"Ja, you so smarts!" Toki leaned in to hug him again. "I…"

"Yeah?"

"I…I _loves you, _Pickle!"

[]

Ofdensen rounded the corner of the crooked and complicated corridor. He was determined to make sure everything was right with Pickles and beg for his forgiveness, to tell him with absolute honesty that he loved him and never wanted to let him go.

He heard the drummer's crude accent and made for that direction. Then chimed in another voice; Toki…?

"Well den," instructed Pickles gently, "don't let it ruin yer life. Don't think about it." Toki was on his knees on the floor, and Pickles was lying down on his back. The cool tile must've been cold, because he sat up right after saying what he did. Toki seemed to think about in for a minute.

"Ja! You so smarts!" Ofdensen leaned around the corner further to see Toki wrap his toned arms around the drummer excitedly. "I…"

"Yeah?" Pickles folded his eyebrows together.

Toki embraced him tighter and practically shouted, "I _loves you, _Pickle!"

Ofdensen slumped down and peeked back over to see Pickles stiffen, then release the embrace quickly. Toki frowned, then cocked his head.

"Love ya too, Toki. Yer my best friend."

"No, no. Pickle, I _love _you…I'ms…um…_in loves _with you!"

Ofdensen slid down until his butt rested against the floor, putting his head in his hands. There was nothing to do except wait to gauge Pickles' response.

"Dat's, eh…are ya sure? Cause I didn't know ya were gay, and –"

"Wasn't tills I falls in loves with you," Toki sang.

"Toki I'm nat…nat…"

"Nots?"

"Okay, I'll be honest. I'm sort of…gay, too. But I don't know if I'm in love with ya er anythin'. I just…I can't…"

"Can'ts whats?" sighed Toki.

"Can't ruin our friendship. Dat's all I got in dis world, 'cept booze and drugs. I mean, maybe I love ya dat way, but I just don't know, and I can't take dat risk."

Ofdensen let a tear fall.

"I understands, Pickle. I will…ams seeings you tomorrow!"

"Yep. Night, Toki."

"Nightsy nights!"

Ofdensen denied his urge to rip the rest of his hair out because, without a doubt, he'd already lost his chance with the one he loved.


	5. The Accident

"Pickles," Ofdensen purred gently, stroking the jaw line of his drummer. "Don't you feel anything for me, after all we've been through?"

It was well after midnight, the imposing shadows of the other band members far too drunk to be of any threat lined the wall of the living room. Skwisgaar and Nathan were leaning on each other's shoulder passed-out, while Murderface sang obnoxiously behind the TV waving a half-empty bottle of beer around. Toki was nowhere to be found.

Pickles sighed. "Course I do, Afdensen. Ya were my best friend fer months. Years maybe. But –" At this point Pickles was tired and yawned " – Toki, dat damn dildo, he's more important. He means far more."

"I can do everything for you. Everything. Anything." Ofdensen leaned closer against the redhead and kissed his neck passionately. "Anything at _all." _

"Fuck it," Pickles breathed, pushing his body closer to his manager. He pulled him by the tie closer to his face, which was a good three inches lower, and kissed his surprised lips with the force of the world backing him. It felt lustful, dirty…yet so necessary.

Ofdensen grabbed Pickles' hand and rushed him to his office. The array of IKEA lamps were soon smashed onto the floor in the moment of heated passion. Ofdensen pulled the little drummer up onto the table and began ripping at his shirt and pants, pulling articles of clothing off of him piece by torn piece. Pickles yelped when his underwear began sliding down to his ankles, but it only increased the tension and fueled Ofdensen's animalistic fury.

"Manage this, mother fucker," growled Pickles. He began ripping at his manager's tie, but Ofdensen was quick to stop that and turned to undress himself civilly. Only when they were both completely naked did they turn off the lights and let their desires run free.

[]

Pickles rubbed his temples invigoratingly, feeling desensitized for the first time since Toki had told him he'd loved him weeks ago. It had caused him to feel so emotional, so tender. Ofdensen had set that right. He felt good, numb. He'd drank himself another mixture of laudanum and felt on top of the world again.

But…what about Toki? He felt what he assumed to be love towards the guitarist, but now he began feeling it towards his manager as well. Both of them so beautiful, yet both so opposite. Ofdensen roared with an undeniable authority, but Toki remained faithful through thick and thin. Plus, Toki actually needed him. Ofdensen didn't even love him.

In all honesty, Pickles knew it would come down to the point of having to choose. But he wasn't ready to yet. He had to know who was the one for him. Was it Ofdensen, who lead him so wisely and pushed him farther in the limits of love than ever before? Or was it Toki, the quiet individual who held his hand so innocently and considered him his best friend? Both were equally appealing, both were equally lovable. But who to choose?

Pickles continued to massage his skull gently. It was far too early and he was far too drunk for that sort of thinking. What he needed, really needed, was McDonald's fries. He whistled and called for a klokateer, demanding a Ferrari to be sent immediately to the front of Mordhaus. Although the klokateer objected to his ability to drive a car, he obliged when Pickles threatened to cut out his eyes.

"Yes, sire," the frightened klokateer murmured quietly. "Your Ferrari awaits you."

Pickles crawled into the driver's seat and tried to remember how to drive. He hadn't done it in some time, being as how Nathan drove the dethcycle. No matter. He was a quick learner. He tested shifting gears and began taking off when he identified the forward gear.

He was in town in no time, flying past lighted red signs and screeching vehicles. The cops didn't even follow him as soon as he leaned out the window and shouted his name for all to hear.

He didn't remember much after that, only the loud sound of metal hitting metal and a sharp pain in his shoulder and the side of his leg. And then the next thing he knew was that a bright light of blinding white stung his eyes and the smell of sterilized needles found their way up his nose. Pickles blinked a few times before finding a tall woman with auburn hair staring over him with a clipboard. She was young and perky, the sort of girl he would've went for three months earlier. Now he hardly gave her a second glance and instead found himself looking around the room for Toki.

He spotted the little Norwegian napping in the far corner of the room on the white tiled floor, his hand still dipped in an empty bowl of candy. Oh how happy he was to see those locks of caramel-colored hair draped around his face and neck. "Toki!" he called, causing him to snort and sit up.

"Pickle!" Toki bounded across the large hospital room. "You ams okay! I ams was so worrieds…but you safes now!" He attempted to hug the drummer, but Pickles winced gently when his arm fell over the gash in his shoulder. Toki quickly jolted backwards apologetically.

"I never leaves your sides," Toki murmured, looking away as he twirled a thick strand of Pickles' red hair around his index finger. "You beens sleepings two day now. I not leaves _once." _The guitarist puffed his chest up and smiled proudly.

"Dat's great, Toki," Pickles smiled. "But, ya can go now. I'm fine."

"I won'ts leaves." Toki was indignant.

"Alright," Pickles mumbled.

Ofdensen opened the door, and frowned when he saw Toki leaning over the drummer. "Pickles, I was so worried. I got the call about the accident and I…I…I panicked." Ofdensen let a lone tear find its trail down his cheek and grimaced at Toki's presence.

"I would like to speak with Pickles privately," Ofdensen directed with an authoritative voice.

"No," Toki responded coolly. "I won'ts leaves Pickle."

"It's fine," Ofdensen assured him with a clenched jaw. "I'm here, I won't leave until you return."

"No!" Toki stood and glared at him. "I wont's go!"

"That's fine, then," Ofdensen muttered with a sudden calm. "But, Nathan is looking for you. He wants your opinion on the upcoming solo."

Toki's eyes filled with stars and lights. "Mine? Wants mine opinions on the solos?" He suddenly rushed out of the room, which Ofdensen locked with a sullen expression.

"Didn't have ta do dat," Pickles sighed.

"Yes, I did. Now, please, listen to me carefully." Ofdensen closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I know Toki loves you, and I know you love Toki. I overheard all of that, and I can handle it. What I _can't _handle is knowing that you think Toki is your only option."

"Eh, Afdensen, wha'dya tryin' ta say…exactly?"

"Toki _isn't _your only option. There's lots of single women and there's…" The manager sighed again. "And there's me."

"You?" Pickles was breathless, appalled at his manager's words. "What the fuck ya pullin' Afdensen?"

"I'm deeply in love with you Pickles, and I want…no I _need _you to know that I'd die for you. I would've taken your place in the car accident if it would've saved you this pain. I can't bear to watch you think that I don't love you. Maybe I didn't before, but I've seen the world without you and –" Ofdensen took a breath, not bothering to hold back his sobs. " – Pickles, it isn't any good without you! Please, I'll do anything for you to choose me. Please."

"Afdensen I…wow. I just…I gat ta think, okay?" Pickles looked down at his wounds, at his broken body. "I don't know, I just…please go, okay? Just go…"

Ofdensen's body dropped as he heaved out his last breath before leaving the room. Toki quickly reentered, a peeved look covering his entire face, distorting his perfect, chiseled features. "There's no solos, you fucking dildo dick!" howled the rhythm guitarist, storming after the manager who simply walked away calmly.

Once again, Pickles knew he was faced with the decision of his love; who did he truly love more? And now he knew that Ofdensen _did _love him, which put the stakes much higher. Whose heart could he stand to break?

**A/N**

**Okay, I had no idea _that _was happening. The beginning, I mean. Wow. I'm officially in love with this story :D Also, this one's dedicated to my good friend Kylie (Murderface) who gave me the inspiration and urged me to continue with this chapter. Thanks so much! By the way, only two chapters left until this beauty concludes. Thanks for reading, ~ Sanathia**


	6. Choice

The scars of time eventually healed over Pickles' injuries and after two weeks of hospitalization, he was able to return to Mordhaus and begin recording once more. He was given a warning against strenuous activity, but the drummer dismissed it all with an agitated wave of his hand. There were far more important things on his mind than his own importance.

There wasn't much time to do anything in between recording the drum pieces for their current album and writing more songs for their future album, but his thoughts snuck back to his predicament every now and then nonetheless. He was never quite able to drown his sorrow and worry in his alcohol, but he continued to try. He knew the day of choice was coming.

"Hey, Pickles," called Nathan in his gruff voice. "That was brutal back there."

"Huh?" the redhead asked, thoroughly confused and half out-of-it due to his reverie.

"The song. Brutal drums. Really make…makes the song. Pulls it…uhh…together."

"Thanks man," nodded Pickles, dumping a cup of water over his head to wash away the sweat. He felt like he was swimming in it.

Toki took a seat next to him and pulled his legs up to his chest, trying to hold Pickles' hand inconspicuously under their legs, but Pickles retracted. His mind was far too full to add the strain of Skwisgaar's criticism. Not to mention that he was still uncomfortable with knowing Toki's affection for him. He wasn't sure he felt the same yet.

"I woulds likes to speaks with you," Toki murmured to Pickles. "In privates."

"No," Pickles hissed. "Maybe later, but we gatta do dis."

"I believes this ams more importants!" Toki grumbled, still whispering.

Pickles ignored him and was sent into the booth to record another song. Three times, it took, until Nathan was well-pleased with the drums. By then it was well into the hours of the morning, and the band unanimously decided they were tired and went to bed.

All except for Toki, that is. Pickles watched Skwisgaar, Murderface, and Nathan stagger out of the studio, and Dick Knubbler walked confidently behind them. The drummer stood to leave, but his Norwegian companion continued to stare off into space and made no effort to move.

"C'man, buddy. Ya gatta sleep, right?"

"I wants to talks to you," he insisted, staring up and meeting pale blue to light green eyes in a startling radiance. Pickles looked away, ashamed.

"Alright. Start talkin'."

"Ofdensens say he loves you. And I say I loves you."

"Dat's…yeah. Dat's true," Pickles admitted.

"We can'ts both loves you. You gots to choose who _you _loves."

"I know dat!" hollered Pickles. He stood and began pacing, occasionally looking down at a calm Toki. The Norwegian simply cocked his head slightly and let his eyes follow the fidgety drummer until he calmed enough to sit again. "I fuckin' know dat I gatta choose. It's damn hard, dude!"

"I'ms sure," he answered quietly, staring down at his boots. "I once had choice likes that."

"Wha'dya mean?"

"You aren'ts the first people I loves, you knows," Toki replied defensively. Then he sighed, wore out. "Sjurd Trofasthet, my laudanum, my morphines. I loves him befores I go numb. Loves him…likes I loves you. He means lots to me." The rhythm guitarist faltered.

"Yeah, and…?"

"Ands, my dads sees us togethers." Toki shrugged. "Saws us, ahem, kissings. And… Well he nots likings that."

"Wait, you've been gay yer whole life?"

"Kinds of," Toki responded, biting his lip. "Womens always likes me, always asks me to touches their hairs and face. Buts, Sjurd ams was the ones I loves."

"Dat's…well, I never woulda guessed dat, dude. Ya do good hidin' it."

"I never hides it," Toki answered quickly, staring deep into Pickles' eyes. "No ones ever cares. I just don't says it with no reasons."

"I haven't always been gay," Pickles admitted, gazing down at his sneakers. "I used ta like dis girl named Raquel. Gorgeous blonde, six foot two." The drummer grinned madly. "I was bout twelve years old when I first fell head over heels in love with her."

"Ands, then whats?"

"When I gat to high school, I told her dat. She laughed at me. I gat real inta drugs right bout den. Cocaine, meth, weed. I did it all. I lead quite da life."

"Buts, you in Dethklok nows."

"Yeah, Afdensen found me in Snakes'n'Barrels in LA when I was, eh, twenty, I think. Told me I was wastin' my talent with nobodies, den introduced me ta Na'an."

"Na'tans?"

"Yep. Den Skwisgaar and Murderface came alang, den eventually ya came ta replace dat shitty bag a crap."

"So hows you gets gays?"

Pickles became thoughtful. "Afdensen."

"Ofdensens?"

"Converted me, yeah." He grimaced and grinned at the same time. "I just don't look at women da same now. Afdensen was all I needed till just a few months ago."

Toki blushed, knowing the answer before he asked, "What happens to change that?"

Pickles nodded gently and took Toki by the hand. "You already know dat, dildo."

They continued holding hands and looking into each other's eyes for a few more minutes until Pickles blinked, swallowed, and looked away. He dropped their tightened hands and turned around.

"What wrongs?"

"I just remembered somethin'."

"Whats?"

"When I first came out a da – shit, whatever the hell dat thing was after da accident. Da first thing I thought of. How could I love da other more?"

Toki frowned. "You thinks of either me or Ofdensens when you first wakes, and that's your true loves?"

"Yep, dat's my true love. Who else could mean so much ta me?"

"Trues, but whos thats? The ones you thinks of?"

Pickles groaned, thinking over the first thought that came to his head after he awoke from his coma.

_The next thing he knew was that a bright light of blinding white stung his eyes and the smell of sterilized needles found their way up his nose. Pickles blinked a few times before finding a tall woman with auburn hair staring over him with a clipboard. She was young and perky, the sort of girl he would've went for three months earlier. Now he hardly gave her a second glance and instead found himself looking around the room for Toki._

_ Looking around the room for Toki._

He was so stupid. The answer had been there all along, simply shrieking for the drummer to notice its existence. Of course it was Toki. It could never have been anyone else. No one else had been there for him the way his best friend had, no one else loved him so unconditionally that they looked past his flaws and found the light shining beneath the dark exterior of his soul. No one else accepted him so easily, and trusted him with a passion that could withstand everything and show its colors. Not a single other soul had ever loved him as much as Toki, not even Ofdensen.

And no one else could love Toki the way Pickles did.

Ofdensen could never leave Pickles' heart, no never. He was the one who brought the redhead to the realization that he _could _love Toki the way he did, he was the one who let him know it was okay to be Pickles the Drummer.

But, not even Ofdensen could stand to Toki, who'd always been there for him through tears and through bitterness. No one else would care enough to sleep in his bed in order to comfort him the way Toki would. No one else would poke him in the stomach out of pure concern of Pickles' welfare. And lastly, no one else the purity and innocence that Toki had, the ability to look at the bleakest of situations and find beauty in most dire of places.

So, as Toki sat expectantly waiting, Pickles was able to take him by the hand and kiss his cheek the way he would've kissed Raquel. He reached his face up to Toki's ear and whispered, "You, Toki. It could only be you." Toki's tightened his grip and kissed him back, allowing them to fall into a trance.

"I…Toki, I…"

"Hush, bo stille," Toki murmured in his ear.

Pickles pulled away and stared into Toki's deep, pale blue eyes. "Toki fuckin' Wartooth. You damn, dildo, you make me crazy. But…I'll always fuckin' love you."

"Og jeg vil alltid jaevla elsker deg," grinned Toki. Even though Pickles had no idea what his love was saying, he knew it was beautiful.

Nothing could ruin that day. Not even Ofdensen.


	7. Explanation

"You're fucking gay," accused a drunk Nathan, pointing a staggering finger in Pickles' direction. Fearful, the drummer held completely still until Nathan looked away. "You're such a pussy. Uh…you, you…You! Have no nerve…whatsoever."

"Gots no nerves," laughed Skwisgaar. "Gotsa be the ladies in your relations-ships."

"Woman!" howled Murderface with a drunk laugh.

"You…gotta…Pickles? You got…to be, gotta be a man. Just grow up." Nathan looked away and frowned down at his boots.

"Child-ladies! Likes the mutants from…uh…" Skwisgaar seemed stumped.

"X-men?" tried Murderface.

"No…the ones nots alloweds in societies…"

"That'sh X-men!"

"Fucks, no, Murderface!" Skwisgaar turned his attention back to Pickles. "Buts you, you gots a problems with…controls."

"Control," echoed Nathan, on the verge of passing out.

"Control," ended Murderface. He stood and stomped out of the living room and down the hall to his room.

"Gots to has controls, gots to stops beings womens." Skwisgaar too began down the dim corridor towards his bedroom.

"Yeah, don't…don't be a woman, Pickles." Nathan stood, then turned and added, "That's Toki's job, right?" He grinned devilishly and disappeared down the long hallway.

What the band had been talking about hit home to Pickles. Ever since he'd admitted his love for Toki to himself, he'd began to feel so…feminine. Suddenly he was interested in Toki's "feelings" and "welfare," something he hadn't given one thought about before. He felt different, not at all like the Pickles who first joined Dethklok, and yet he couldn't pinpoint exactly when it'd happened.

_Ofdensen. _Pickles knew he was at least partially to blame. Somehow, in between his joining of Dethklok and the current situation, the manager had weaseled his way into the redhead's brain and turned him gay. Only after the many affairs and problems aroused in their relationship had Toki been able to come into his life, at first only as a friend, but grew to be more. Somehow, Toki had become the embodiment of life to Pickles, the epitome of love.

But what to say to the aging Ofdensen? Pickles had gone over so many conversations in his head, imagining how he could break his lover's heart. But none seemed quite right. Nothing seemed kind enough to shower Ofdensen with the love he once felt. How could he tell him that the feelings had disappeared so quickly in the coming of Toki?

"Pickles," breathed the manager from across the room, having just exited his office. Pickles couldn't even look him in the eye.

"Afdensen," mumbled the drummer. His sneakers suddenly seemed so interesting.

"I…already know." Pickles immediately looked up at Ofdensen's strange words, words he hadn't expected.

"Ya know, den?"

"Well…yes. It wasn't exactly welcome news." Ofdensen took a timid seat on the couch across from Pickles. "But…I think I understand."

Pickles shook his head. "Dere's no way ya do."

"Then, by all means, explain."

The drummer sighed. "Ya always meant a lat ta me, ya know dat? It damn well wasn't an easy choice. But I know it was da right one." Ofdensen waited for him to elaborate. "Ya know dat feelin' ya get when ya know ya fergot somethin' and yer not sure what?"

Ofdensen swallowed and nodded.

"Whenever I looked at ya, I got dat feelin'. And…I guess I was fergettin' somethin'. Fergot ta tell ya dat I wasn't sure ya were right fer me."

"And you don't get that with Toki?"

"No. Not at all." Pickles was surprised at his own words. "It's like dere's a magnet in both of us dat pulls us together. It can only be at rest when we're together. Now dat we are, I feel…peaceful, I guess dat's da word."

"I still…I'll always love you. You know that, right?"

"I know. But I wished ya didn't."

"Why's that?"

"Because, I can never return dat love, and ya deserve better that dat, Ofdensen!" Pickles stood. "Ya know, if Toki hadn't ever joined da band, I coulda been happy with ya. But I think he's my soulmate, and dere's no arguin' with destiny."

"What do you love about him?" Ofdensen shot at him, one lonely tear finding its way down his cheek.

"Wh-what?"

"What is it that you love about him?"

"Ofdensen, it's –" Pickles gave him a lopsided smile. "It's da way his hand feels in mine. I'll talk ta ya later."

And with that and that alone, Pickles marched himself down to his bedroom.

[]

"Pickle, does you wants to knows the story, the _whole _story, of Sjurd?"

"Ya know I do, Toki," Pickles replied to the little Norwegian quietly.

"I ams was twelve, he ams was elevens." The drummer watched his friend fall deep into a reverie. "I loveds him so much, buts he tell me how sicks he is. So I tells him I gives him a wish for every years he lives."

"How long did he live?"

"Two year," Toki responded with a frown. "His first wishes was candies, so I saves up long times and buys him candies necklace. He never eats it though. Wears it everydays likes jewelries. The next years, he wish for kisses." Toki began to falter. "That first kiss, I falls in loves with hims. I kiss him more times, more lovings him, then my dads sees."

"What happened?"

Toki removed his shirt. "I lies abouts not remembers-ing. Most ofs them I gots that nights. My dads makes me work all nights long, and I fells in hole. My dads come down and takes big whip." Toki began to think deeply of that night, how cold it was, how ice began to sneak into his open wounds painfully as he trudged on. "He brings me outs of hole, and my mom takes fingernails ands does this."

"That's fuckin' awful," Pickles murmured.

"Maybes. That nights I sneaks out to meets Sjurd under our trees." The pain was unbearable, but seeing Sjurd's thin body was far worse. He'd acted like it was fine that they'd never be able to see each other again, but Toki saw the tears. "I tells him that I can'ts sees him no mores."

"Den he died?"

"No, no. Nots yets. We meets after schools then, and he tells me one day –" Toki remembered it so well. Sjurd had been to hesitant to tell him before, but the day after he faltered he admitted to Toki that he loved him. " – Thats…he tells me thats he loves me. I…I runs away." Toki bit his lip.

"Ya ran away?"

"Yes, I runs backs to my dads, and he tells me I goes to Hell. I goes to Sjurd the next day, and I tells him that I loves him…but by that points, I feels numbs. Sjurd has numbeds me, and he becames my morphine."

"Yer laudanum," Pickles murmured.

"Ja. My laudanums. That goes on for a months, then he…" Toki stopped, remembering his friend's death so clearly. It was true that everything he loved died. "Dies. He dies."

The Norwegian realized that Pickles meant far too much for him to love so selfishly, he couldn't allow his brother, his friend to die for the sake of him. Toki knew that it was only a matter of time; death had already tried to take Pickles once because of their love.

"I gots to go," he whispered, rushing away. He made a direct beeline to the bathroom; it was sterile, far too bright. Perfect to drown himself in. Of course, only moments later, Pickles was knocking at the door.

"Dude, ya okay?"

"No. Leaves me alones."

"Nat gonna do dat, Toki."

"I don'ts loves you. Leaves me."

"I…no, Toki. What the fuck is yer prablem? Yer lyin'."

"Ams nots. Go."

Pickles slammed his body against the door twice, and Toki unlocked it sheepishly. He looked down at the drummer shamefully and hid his face.

"What's wrang?"

"Everythings. You. Me. The worlds."

"Yeah, what's new?" Pickles smiled.

"I can'ts loves you. You'll just…dies."

"I won't."

"You wills."

"Toki Wartooth," hollered Pickles, grabbing his friend by the ear. "I promise dat I will never die, until ya come and tell me ta." With that, the drummer pulled his lover down into a passionate kiss. And he knew that he'd never let go, not until Toki sent him away.

"You bes here forevers, then," Toki warned, pulling away briefly.

"Sounds perfect," Pickles whispered. "Because eternity without ya is worse than no eternity at all."

**A/N**

**And, that's the end. I hope you liked it. :D I think it was really good, especially for being my first Pickles/Toki thing. Please review, because I need feedback for my next pieces. The next thing I'm doing is a Nathan/Toki slash called Unbreakable. Be sure to read that. Remember to check me out on my deviantArt account of the same username. ~ Sanathia**


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